


Hidden lands

by unknownlifeform



Series: Tolkien Gen Week [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Conversations, Cultural Differences, Drinking, Gen, Tolkien Gen Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknownlifeform/pseuds/unknownlifeform
Summary: Many people wonder why did Rog decide to come live in Gondolin with Turgon. He seemingly had no obligation to do so, and a lot of reasons not to.
Series: Tolkien Gen Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818310
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	Hidden lands

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the headcanon that Rog was originally an Avar who was captured by Melkor, and I had to give a reasoning for him being in Gondolin
> 
> Day Five: Diversity

The wine was not the best Rôg had ever tasted. It was too sour for him.

However, the city was new. This had been made with Gondolin’s first harvest. The grapes had not been of the best quality, and the wine had been aged little, but agriculture was improving fast. In the following years they might get something tastier.

“I had hoped this would come out better,” Glorfindel said, looking at his cup.

“Let me guess, you prefer sweet spirits?”

“How did you know?”

“Perhaps something to do with how much honey you put in your tea.”

Glorfindel laughed. “I would put sugar, if only it wasn’t quite so rare here.”

“I’m not shocked,” Rôg said. One of the first things he had learnt of the Noldor lord was that he had an outrageous sweet tooth.

“I miss the wine in Tirion,” Glorfindel said, sounding wistful. “I used to drink this kind that was sweeter than honey, and with a hundred flavors.”

Rôg hummed. He was not that much an expert on wine, to be honest. He could enjoy it, but there were other spirits he liked best. “You would like this liquor my people make. It’s made with wild berries, and keeps their sweet taste. And it’s strong enough to knock out a horse, not watery like this.”

“I wouldn’t call this watery. Not strong, but you can taste the alcohol.”

Rôg snorted. “I could drink a barrel of this and not even become tipsy. We like stronger drinks, where I come from. Are you Noldor scared of getting drunk, or are you quite so weak when it comes to alcohol?”

“I like being drunk well enough, but I also like to drink more than a cup before passing out. Avarin parties must be animated affairs, if your spirits are so strong.”

Rôg smiled at that. “Different from Noldorin ones, for sure.”

The dances, for starters, were different. Stuffy, in Rôg’s opinions. Way too rigid. And all those musical instruments Rôg had never seen before living with Noldor. Not to mention, Turgon and all the other lords here liked to show off their huge halls, all decorated with gems and metals and draperies. Avari liked to party out in the open, in streets and forests.

So did the Kindi, at least. Rôg had never spent enough time with other tribes to be able to talk about them. He had never really left his, before being captured.

“I have wondered, my friend,” Glorfindel said. “Why have you chosen to live with us? You need not answer me if you do not wish, but I have to say I have been curious.”

As did most of Gondolin, Rôg thought. Other than him, there were only a handful of Avari in the city, most of which former thralls who had come following Rôg. Some weren’t just curious about him, but openly hostile, wondering why did Turgon give so much authority to an Avari, letting him into his council and even letting him rule a House. More than one time Rôg had had people tell him they didn’t think he deserved to rule over Noldor. Nevermind that his House held almost all the few Avari, Nandor and Sindar who had for a reason or the other followed Turgon.

Glorfindel was not the judgemental kind. Rôg had befriended him since they had all come to Gondolin, and he knew Glorfindel did not hold prejudices. There was nothing but pure curiosity in his eyes.

“Tell me, Glorfindel, are you not part Vanyar?” Rôg asked. It was a rhetorical question. Even Rôg, who had never met any Vanyar, could see Glorfindel was quite different from the average Noldo. His golden hair was only matched by that of Turgon’s daughter, and he was by far the tallest person in the city.

Rôg also looked different than many in Gondolin, but not in the way Glorfindel did. Rôg’s dark hair was not unusual, but the way he braided it was. So were the clothes he wore, and the jewelry he had to create himself. His features… well, they might have been unusual, but most people tended to notice his scars first.

“I am also part Noldor, and I was at the service of Fingolfin. He had my loyalty.”

“But you could have chosen. Follow him here, or stay home with the blonder side of the family.”

Glorfindel nodded, smiling somewhat sadly. “True, but I believed Fingolfin’s cause was just. Don’t misunderstand me, I never had much sympathy for Fëanor, and had it simply been a matter of chasing him I probably would have stayed. However, Morgoth must be fought. His malice is too strong to be allowed into this world, and I could not let my friends fight him while I stayed safe in Valinor.”

“Then you have your answer. I also want to get rid of him, and more so than you do,” Rôg said. Not that he doubted the Noldor hated him as well, but Rôg and his people had suffered that evil on their own skin far longer.

“Don’t the Avari also fight Morgoth?”

“It’s not that easy,” Rôg said. “They are scared, and they are right to be. Too many of us have been lost, too long his servants have terrified us. We don’t have the kind of large hosts the Noldor do. Our people have been decimated, and prefer to hide, but we don’t have the power to keep borders safe like the Sindar. And so many end up running away from Beleriand entirely, rather than staying so close to Morgoth.”

Some isolated individuals wanted to fight, but organizing a large scale effort… no, that would be impossible.

Besides, _Rog’s_ people were rare in Beleriand. The Kindi had came from the East when Rôg was still a child, but many of them had remained in the lands beyond the Ered Luin. Many had ran back there once they realized the hold Sauron kept on Beleriand for his absent master. Of the people Rôg had known, those who hadn’t been killed by Orcs had died of the torments in Angband.

Granted, some might have found refuge with the Kinn-lai. Those had lived in Beleriand longer, and  had managed to defend themselves longer. They hid in Nan Elmoth, under one named E öl, if Rôg remembered right. Rôg could have joined them, but while the Kinn-lai were more similar to the Kindi than the Noldor they were still not his people. If he had to live with strangers, might as well pick the ones that suited him best.

Glorfindel tilted his head. “Then why did you choose Gondolin, rather than follow another Noldor leader? We are also hiding, in here.”

“I want to fight him, but I’m not an idiot. Morgoth can easily eradicate cities. If he decides to move against Fingolfin, or one of Fëanor’s sons soon, before they secure their lands, they won’t be able to hold him back. A hidden city like this can grow strong until it will be the right time to attack.”

Perhaps having had to live hiding from Orcs for all his youth had left a mark in Rôg’s mind. Still, he thought other lands were far too exposed to a possible attack from the North. Far too vulnerable.

It wasn’t that Rôg didn’t miss the freedom of moving through lands and forests as he pleased, a freedom he did not have here. But he could still explore the mountains that surrounded the city, and that was far more freedom than Rôg had been allowed in the many years he had been in captivity.

He also missed his people. He missed speaking his language, and walking without attracting attention because of his clothes, and eating Kindi food and hearing Kindi music. He could have crossed the Ered Luin and looked for those that still lived there. He knew some other freed thrall had done so.

But he had a war to fight. He could look for his people after it was over. For now, he would stay here, with these weird people and all their weird habits. And he’d also put up with those who thought less of him because he had never lived under Valar rule – hypocrites, when they themselves had ran from that same rule. And he’d deal with those who found his clothes as strange as the scars marring his skin.

It was all in all a very small price to pay, when the promised reward was to bring Angband down to its knees.


End file.
